


Lost and Found

by ladydragon76



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, PB&J, Rating: NC-17 - Freeform, character: barricade, character: jazz, character: prowl, genre: angst, genre: drama, smut: sparks, smut: sticky, verse: g1, warning: canon- what canon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Ages ago Barricade lost his brother to the Autobots, then again to space and likely death out there among the stars.  He wasn’t expecting to find him when curiosity drove him toward the lights of a now-bustling city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Prowl/Barricade/Jazz  
>  **Warnings:** Sticky, Sparks, Drama,  
>  **Notes:** I was bribed. MasqueAdrift also gets heaps of credit for this because I borrowed heavily (with her permission of course) from an RP we did for two of the scenes.

Barricade scowled at the lights ahead of him. There were so many, and they blazed insanely bright in the dark cycle. A beacon to one and all that _something_ was afoot on Cybertron after countless vorns of near-silence and starvation. Not that the stable rotation from night to day, day to night hadn’t been something of a dead giveaway. Barricade had timed it. Night and day in more or less equal segments, and each day a little brighter as they tumbled closer and closer to the nearby yellow star. Only time would tell if it would be strong enough to catch and hold the planet, but he wasn’t patient enough to wait and see. No, this required investigation, though having a lighter daytime presented its own new challenges for a mech that had been sneaking and hiding in the darkness for so long.

Barricade cursed himself and his curiosity as he edged closer to the city. What was Shockwave up to? Or was this Megatron? Was the war finally over? That might not be too bad a thing. With the right radiation collectors in place -assuming the sun caught them- Cybertron would have an endless supply of energon. Barricade could steal just about anything anymore, and a converter or simply sticking close enough to raid energon stores would mean he could finally go off his diet of turborats and petrorabbits.

And frag those long-eared bastards anyway! He was sick of getting bit.

“Hey there.”

Barricade snarled a curse as he spun around. A Seeker, and way too fragging close. Barricade launched, but he wasn’t anywhere close to as fast as a Seeker. He was caught embarrassingly easy -he, a Decepticon deserter- and swept up into the sky.

“Relax,” the Seeker said. “You aren’t going to be hurt.”

Barricade looked up, doorwings tucked tight to his back against the rush of wind. “Know that, huh?”

The Seeker smiled down at him, openly amused. This kid had no clue who he was carrying, Barricade didn’t recognize the color combination. Youngling. Barely mature. And flying Barricade right into the very threat he’d been avoiding for so long. He cursed again, vocalizer grating and hissing over the words. Primus, it’d been ages since he’d spoken. Hopefully his vocalizer wasn’t actually rusting out on him.

They landed only moments later, and Barricade was braced by the Seeker until he had his balance. The light was blinding. Brilliant white, and it made everything glow. Barricade winced and narrowed his optics into a squint.

“Commander,” the Seeker greeted, and Barricade watched a red and white, rather familiar looking mech, turn his helm toward them. “Found him out in the border hills.”

Barricade was barely given a glance. “Thank you. Take him to room twelve,” the mech said, then turned back to a black and red Seeker.

Razorwing, Barricade thought, and felt a flicker of some lighter emotion. If it was Razorwing, then he’d matured well. And _survived_. When Barricade had fled, the youngling had just started to show thruster buds at his heels. Now he stood with dignity and pride, nodding and talking to the red and white mech in a way that indicated that he was outranked, but not cowed.

“This way please,” Barricade’s captor said, and gently tugged at his elbow.

Barricade snarled and jerked his arm away. “Think you’ve touched me enough.”

Red optics blinked out from a startled face. “Ok.” He gestured, and Barricade followed, but not before giving the brat another glare. He would need to escape, but this might be a chance to gain a few answers about just what the slag was going on of late.

Deposited in what Barricade assumed was room twelve, the young Seeker gestured to a chair and took up guard position by the door. Yeah. Nice cop. Which meant the red and white mech would be the bad cop. Barricade knew how this went with Autobots. The question was, why were the Seekers with them?

No, he knew why. Starscream must be dead, and the survivors, with no Winglord determined to usurp Megatron, would have fled Shockwave to the Autobots. Ultra Magnus was still around last time Barricade had risked a run on their supply cache. That had been some time ago, but the Seekers had always been the swaying power in the war. If they had abandoned the Decepticons, then maybe things weren’t _as_ dangerous as Barricade had assumed. Maybe Shockwave was even dead? Wouldn’t that be nice?

The red and white mech entered the room, optics on his datapad. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.” Barricade snorted. “Please take a seat.”

Barricade crossed his arms under his chest, feet braced and doorwings arched at an uncomfortably high and threatening angle. “Rather stand.”

Blue optics narrowed. “Please be seated.”

“Why’m I here?” Barricade demanded instead.

“You are here,” the mech began, his optics narrowing further into a true glare, “because you are not yet registered. Something I would like to complete quickly as I am very busy and have far more to do this evening before I can even consider recharging.”

Registered? Oh, frag _that_ with a rusted shovel. “And what happens when I say I don’t want to be registered?” That rough rumble in his voice was proving a good thing. It made Barricade sound even more threatening than he’d meant to, but he _could_ back it up. Physically if necessary. If living alone in the wilds of Cybertron for longer than he could track had taught him anything, it was the ability to go from seemingly relaxed to and explosion of violent movement. All he needed was to surprise this mech and any others enough to dart away. Close buildings were a weak point for Seekers, and Barricade was dark and decidedly _not_ shiny. He’d disappear the second he found a few shadows.

The mech cycled his vents very deliberately, visibly reined in his temper, and said, “The war is over. We have new rules in place now. It’s been a difficult transition for all, but no one wants to go back to the fighting. You need to be integrated, given identification, and assigned housing and employment. We can’t do any of that until you are registered.”

“And what if I don’t want to be… integrated?” Barricade shifted his weight into a more defensive posture, noting how the mech eyed him. Former warrior enough to brace himself and center his weight too. Good to know. “Like my little place. Only reason I came in so close was cuz I was curious.” Barricade flicked a dismissive hand. “Yay. War’s over. Been over a long damn time for me.”

“I fail to see how living in a hole in the ground is preferable to all the energon you need, a comfortable berth, and the pride in rebuilding what we’ve destroyed.” The mech’s nose wrinkled up a bit. “At the very least, wouldn’t you enjoy a trip through the washracks?”

“Cute,” Barricade sneered.

The mech huffed. “Look, it hardly matters what you think you want. You cannot be allowed to creep about and steal from the hardworking mechs here. Now, what is your designation?”

Barricade’s optic ridges both popped up at that. “What I _think_ I want? Hn. I see.” Slagger was in for a surprise. Barricade was no minimally educated guttermech. He had had a bonded pair of creators who had, while not wealthy, been able to afford to give Barricade and his brother damn good educations. They’d both become enforcers, both clever in their own rights. When the rebellion had begun there had been hundreds of debates on how each side was right or wrong. Barricade was a debater of the highest caliber, but more than that, he knew how to rattle a mech that was trying to play it cool. Interrogation training had only added to his abilities in that arena. “That sounds awful familiar. Autobots still tryin’ ta tell a mech how ta think.”

The mech heaved a much put-upon sigh. “Of course you were a Decepticon.”

“Not in an age. Just don’t take kindly to being told I’ll be _registered_ and _integrated_. Any idea how that fraggin’ sounds?”

“Optimus Prime is not his predecessors,” the mech snapped. “Nor is the new Council the old Senate! They’re dead and gone, and good riddance. There is no caste system. No frame type is better than another.”

“Tell that ta the Seekers,” Barricade rumbled with a smirk.

The mech gave him a flat, unamused look. “We are all equal. We have a joint Council, led by Optimus as the Matrix-chosen Prime, and Megatron serving as Lord High Protector. The mechs on that Council were appointed by the two of them, and as soon as things settle, and we have the population for it, there will be elections.”

“Sounds pretty,” Barricade said. “Can I go now?”

“So you can thieve from us more?” The mech huffed. “I think not. We’re well aware of the supplies that go missing. Supplies needed to rebuild. We certainly can’t afford scavengers and thieves who refuse to lift a finger and contribute. _Everyone_ works. Me. Prime. Megatron. Starscream, Prowl, Soundwave, Jazz. All of High Command from both armies are out there in the city every day with soldiers and refugees.” He snorted. “Oh, but you’re a deserter and coward, right? So what’s in it for you? Why work when you can simply take?”

Barricade bristled, but it took a lot of control to maintain the anger at _that_ name.

Prowl? Prowl was alive?

But was it _his_ Prowl? Names repeated plenty, and mechs had certainly taken on the designation of another during the course of the war.

Barricade narrowed his optics and lifted his chin. He’d find out. “I haven’t stolen anything from anyone. I was abducted from the very edge of the city where it’s still in ruins. If I haven’t committed a crime, which I haven’t, then you have no right to hold me. This is wrongful detainment. If I have no wish to be a part of your society, you cannot force me to be as that violates my right to freedom. Which is your Prime’s catch phrase, if I remember correctly. And if you’re so unreasonable as to refuse to uphold the law you’re professing to enact, then I demand someone to speak with who is. I want to see _your_ supervisor.”

“If you are not part of our society, then I don’t believe you belong on Cybertron!”

Barricade gave the mech a wolf’s grin. “Yeah? Who’s in charge of you? He’s the one I’m talking to.” He crossed to the chair he’d been waved to before, dropped into it, and slung his feet up onto the table. “Get him, or let me go, because I sure as slag don’t need your charity-disguised shackles.”

The mech growled, then turned away to presumably make the comm call. Barricade flashed a grin at the Seeker who remained by the door, silent but frowning.

It was a few minutes of the mech and Seeker scowling at him while Barricade smirked and held the red and white mech’s gaze. Then the door opened, and he thought his spark had imploded. It was _Prowl_! _His_ Prowl. Pits, Barricade hadn’t known he could still feel all those emotions. Rage tangled with love, twisted up in hope, and was caught in a net of cynical doubt that anything would be different now than it was before.

It felt like all the atmosphere had been sucked from the room, then Prowl turned away from greeting the red and white mech. Blue optics locked with red, and it was Prowl that gasped. “Barricade!”

“Prowl,” Barricade rumbled back, and purposely deepened his smirk. “Still subscribing to that whole ‘freedom is the right of all’ thing? Cuz your pal there doesn’t seem to understand that not giving a mech a choice isn’t really freedom.”

The red and white mech’s mouth dropped open, but Prowl lifted a hand and turned to him. “Give me a few minutes alone with him.” The mech hesitated, so Prowl reached back for the key panel and opened the door. The Seeker didn’t need told twice and made good his escape, but the mech lingered. “It’ll be fine, Red Alert.”

Red Alert! The name snapped into place for Barricade, and he dragged his gaze from his brother to the red and white mech. Of course it was Red Alert. Primus, had he known that he could have had even more fun with the mech.

Red Alert cast one last glare at Barricade, then exited the room. Once the door shut, Prowl faced Barricade again. “I thought you were dead,” he said, voice soft. He moved to the table and other chair as though walking through a dream. Barricade could relate. This had the distinct taste of the surreal, and he wasn’t entirely sure he trusted it wasn’t a dream now.

“Thought you were dead myself,” Barricade said, his own voice softer than he’d intended. “You ran off with Prime ta die in space with everyone else. Left the ‘Cons ages ago.”

Prowl laced his fingers together on the table and leaned forward on his elbows. “How are your fuel levels? I could get you some energon?"

How solicitous, Barricade thought. It was tempting, but like slag was he going to accept anything until he knew whether he was being enslaved or not. “Rather know what the frag’s going on.”

Prowl cycled his vents, and stared at Barricade in silence for a moment. “I did not ‘run off’ with Prime. We left Cybertron in the hopes of finding an energon source. Megatron followed and attacked. For over forty-eight thousand vorns we were in stasis lock on an organic planet.”

Idealistic bastard to the core, but then Prowl always had been. He’d thought he could change the world from Sentinel’s side. “Woke up to peace?” Barricade asked with a derisive snort. “Cuz I sure as slag know that Shockwave had the Seekers hunting for Autobots more recently than that.” At least he thought so. It wasn’t like Barricade had paid all that much attention to the passage of time.

Prowl straightened, doorwings twitching in a dead giveaway of his annoyance. “No. Teletraan was reactivated, and Megatron began trying to conquer the planet as soon as he and the Decepticons woke. The war spilled over to the organics of Earth, but it wasn’t terribly long before we discovered that Shockwave was to blame for Megatron’s madness. Soundwave and Starscream were able to work with Ratchet and Perceptor to remove the virus. Shockwave himself was, unfortunately, killed in the taking of Cybertron.”

“Unfortunately?” Barricade asked, disbelief rich in his tone. “You’d be jumping for joy if you knew even _half_ of what that fragger did.”

“I am aware. Acid Storm filled Starscream in on it all,” Prowl replied. “And it is a shame because death was too fast and easy a punishment.”

Barricade blinked. Had the war given Prowl teeth? That was a bit more bloodthirsty than he was used to hearing from his brother. Barricade watched Prowl for a moment, then dropped his feet to the floor. “Well, that’s all nice and all. Can I go now?” It was better news than he’d hoped for. Shockwave was dead and Megatron wasn’t insane, however, he was still being held for _registration_.

Prowl frowned. “Why do you want to leave? We have energon. We finally have peace.”

“Why, Prowl? Because I want to know that I can.” Barricade stood, hands planted on the table as he leaned in a bit. “I’m not got to be some willing slave. I’m not going to be forced into a box someone else decides is good enough for me. Why the frag do you think I became a Decepticon in the first place? _We_ had options. _Many_ others didn’t. Now, my introduction to your new little society included abduction and being held against my will. I’m told that I’ll be _given_ a job, a bunk, and should be _grateful_ for my freedom being stripped away? Get slagged. I’d rather recharge in filth and eat turborats.”

“I see you would still shoot your own foot to make a point,” Prowl bit out. “You haven’t changed a bit.” He shoved the chair back and stood, optics blue fire as he glared at Barricade over the table. “Fine. If you prefer filth, far be it from me to stop you. Better that than you being a drain on our limited resources. We have no room for a mech who refuses to contribute. Suck the energon from rats and rust out there if you like!”

Barricade almost laughed. There was the reaction he wanted. “I never said I wouldn’t contribute to a society I was _invited_ to. I said I refuse to be a slave and be pressed into the service of others who get to choose their life while I get jammed into a slot and ignored.” He also wanted _Prowl_ to ask him to stay. He’d like a cube, one of those comfortable berths, and maybe a little security. He just wasn’t willing to give up his freedom for even one of those.

“There are no slaves here,” Prowl snarled, wing angled sharply behind him. “We _all_ work hard. Everyone is expected to pull their own weight. It’s filthy and exhausting, and on top of that, we’re trying to form up a new government to _protect_ the people. All of the people!”

Barricade tipped his helm. “So are you inviting me?”

Prowl growled, fists clenched. “Primus!” He whipped around and paced away, before turning back. “Yes, Barricade. I am inviting you. If you choose not to stay, I will personally see you to the edge of the city.” He paused, cycled his vents, and then said more calmly, “I’d rather you stay.”

One optic ridge arched. Prowl had almost managed not to sound like the words hurt to say. Barricade gave him a smirk. “Alright.”

Prowl blinked, but then pulled a datapad from his subspace. “Good. Let me see what-”

“No,” Barricade said. “No, if I stay, I work with you. I stay with _you_. Not in some little barracks room or cell that’s not _really_ a cell. Where you go, I go. Whatever work you do, I’ll do until I trust this new little system of yours.” Prowl’s mouth opened, but Barricade spoke over him. “The second I smell a reason to distrust it, or you, I’m gone. And believe me, brother. You’ll never find me again.”

Prowl stood so tense that his doorwings began to vibrate, and for a moment, Barricade thought that was it. He was going to be locked up, or maybe even struck. He’d managed to push Prowl into taking a swing at him a few times, but then Prowl snorted and shook out his doorwings. “As you wish. Follow me. Just don’t expect me to be particularly cuddly. I don’t trust you yet myself.”

Barricade followed his brother out the door. “Aw com’on. I’ll take a shower. Remember how ya like to snuggle after a long day.”

“You will absolutely shower,” Prowl shot back over his shoulder. “Once you have scrubbed the vorns of grime off, you will have energon, then recharge. Tomorrow will be an early start if I’m to train you as well as complete my own duties.”

Barricade chuckled as he trailed after Prowl through the corridors, and up a lift. This was bound to be a tragedy. He and Prowl had loved passionately, but they’d also fought with just as much emotion. Prowl seemed capable of handling anything stoically except Barricade, at least when they were younger. Pits, Barricade often only maintained control over his own temper because it drove Prowl crazy.

Mechs they passed were ignored, though a few quickly stepped out of their path. Barricade couldn’t see Prowl’s face, but it must be something to behold if those reactions were anything to go by. When they stopped at a door, Barricade stood just a little too close. He hoped he smelled rank, but that was secondary to the sharp throb of his spark. Proximity to Prowl had always made it pulse faster, and it seemed that such a long time apart hadn’t dulled the reaction.

Prowl shivered, though he did an admirable job of hiding it as he jabbed the code into the keypad, then strode into his flat. Barricade gave it a cursory look, figuring he’d explore later. He really did want that wash, but it’d been a damn long hike, exciting day, and a rather long time since his last meal. Recharging on an actual berth would be something damn nice.

“Shower.” Prowl stabbed a finger toward a door off to the left. “Get moving or I may just shove you out the window.”

“Such love,” Barricade crooned as he sauntered to the door. “I missed you too, brother. Gonna come help me with my back?”

“Pits, no. There’s a long handled brush in there. Make good use of it.” Prowl turned away, and Barricade decided he could needle him later.

Barricade took his time and scrubbed hard at first. There were spots where he literally had to scrape the built-up grime off, then he simply let hot water pour over him. It ran into his seams and down his body, taking an embarrassing amount of time to run clear instead of black. When the water that swirled down the drain did finally run clear, he soaped up again for a last wash. Barricade shook his helm at the scratches and dull coloring of his plating. He was undernourished, and now it really showed.

Nothing but time and decent energon would fix that though, so he shut off the water, dried off, and then went back out for that promised meal. He spotted not just one, but two cubes of energon on the conversation table. Prowl was feigning relaxation in a chair, so Barricade let himself drop gracelessly onto the sofa, then reached out for the first cube. He brought the cube up to his mouth and leaned back, kicking his feet up to rest on the table, but Prowl didn’t even twitch.

Before Barricade could think up a new way to get his brother’s attention, he nearly choked on the energon. The cube was jerked back, energon sloshing dangerously close to spilling, and he stared at it. No, it was regular stuff. Better than he’d had in a long fragging time, but definitely just regular energon. Prowl wouldn’t give him high grade, and the kinds of high grade that were _that_ frelling sweet weren’t pink.

“Fair shade better than a turborat,” Prowl said. Slag him for the smug note too.

Barricade ignored the comment, took another –more careful- sip of the energon, then asked, “So where am I not cuddling you at tonight?”

Prowl rolled his optics and sighed as he pointed down the hall past the washroom. “The door on the right will be your berth room.”

“Rate a spare room, do ya?” Barricade asked, then tried not to wince at the impossible sweetness of the energon. Primus, it was making his gyros spin.

“No, I do not,” Prowl said, but didn’t elaborate.

Barricade wanted to question him more, but he was beginning to think he was feeling drunk. He stared at his nearly empty cube, then looked at the second one. “I don’t think I’ll get ta that one.”

“That’s fine,” Prowl replied. “I only brought out two because I wasn’t sure how hungry you would be.”

“Kinda full,” Barricade said, then snickered as he turned his head and the room spun and had to catch up. “Might be drunk. Did you drug me?” he asked in disbelief. “Cuz I really wasn’t plannin’ on actin’ up.” He paused and snickered again. “Too much.”

“…No,” Prowl replied. “I- This isn’t normal. I’ll add a trip to Ratchet for a check-up for you to our schedule tomorrow.” He stood and took the cube from Barricade. “Come. You can recharge. I’m sure it’s just the richness of the energon affecting you.”

Probably, but it was kind of fun. Barricade hoped he wouldn’t be hungover in the morning as he let Prowl haul him to his feet. He stumbled, and despite the bass pitch of his voice not being particularly made for giggling, the sound that escaped Barricade was awfully close to one. He wobbled along sideways, clinging to Prowl as the floor dipped and bounced under his feet.

Somehow, time skipped forward, or maybe Prowl learned how to teleport? Barricade fell to the berth, and Prowl came down over him. “Hi. Tryin’a seduce me?”

“Definitely not,” Prowl replied and tried to peel himself from Barricade’s grasp. “Let go, Cade.”

“Stay,” Barricade said. He struggled to roll and shift. A doorwing caught under him, and he was too busy twirling around with the rest of the planet to get it loose. Hands pulled and Barricade gasped as he was moved, then landed on his side, doorwings out behind him. He scrambled after Prowl’s hand, just barely able to see it in the dim light from the hallway. “Thought you were dead,” he whispered.

Prowl stilled, and then stretched out beside Barricade with a sigh. “You are drunk, Barricade. Recharge.”

“Stayin’?”

“If you recharge.”

Barricade clung to Prowl’s captured hand, the world’s tilting around him becoming a little less violent. He was dreaming, he decided. He was going to wake up in his little den, probably with some weird fever that was going to be a big problem since he didn’t have any extra energon laid in. That was dumb of him. He should have thought, _planned_ better. With a sigh, he mumbled words to his imaginary Prowl that he hadn’t voiced in an age, then sank into the twisting black of recharge.

~

It took Prowl the better part of an hour to extricate himself from Barricade’s desperate grasp. And compose himself, but he wasn’t going to think about that just then. Especially as the door to his flat opened. Jazz rushed in, and Prowl knew he was sweeping the entire place, then his visor landed on Prowl at the edge of the hall.

“Prowler?”

“Everything is fine,” Prowl said with far more calm than he felt.

“He’s here?” Jazz strode across the lounge to Prowl, lips in a flat line, energy field reaching to search Prowl’s. “Don’t feel fine, babe.”

“I am,” Prowl said and caught Jazz’s wrist to tug them both over to the sofa. “Truly. It’s just a bit of a shock.”

They sat, Jazz twisting to the side with a knee up on the cushion so he could face Prowl. “A bit, yeah. Red couldn’t reach me, or I’d’a been here a lot sooner.”

It was telling that Jazz was _showing_ how frantic he felt, and Prowl felt a little guilty. He’d kept this secret so long, and it was difficult to say what he knew he needed to now. “Barricade is… contrary. He always has been, but I don’t believe he’s a threat to us or anyone else.”

“Babe,” Jazz said, then he pushed his visor up. “Red said-”

“He’s my brother,” Prowl confessed. He needed the words to come from him.

“Weren’t no records of a brother.”

Prowl glanced up, aware of the accusation in Jazz’s tone. “No. When Sentinel was killed I deleted all of my personal records. I feared that the Decepticons would try to come at me through my family.”

“Then Praxus fell,” Jazz said softly.

“Yes.” Prowl cycled his respiration and took Jazz’s hands. His fingers still ached from Barricade’s tight hold, but he ignored the pain and stared at their hands. “Our creators were killed. Their bodies were found. Barricade’s wasn’t, but-” He shook his helm, trying to rein in his emotions. Barricade’s mere existence had stirred up too much in too short of a time. Then the fragger had-

No, Prowl was definitely not thinking about that, especially with _Jazz_ right there.

“I believed he was dead until I practically stepped on him during a battle,” Prowl explained.

“You missed,” Jazz said, his voice barely over a whisper and pained for Prowl’s sake.

“He moved,” Prowl corrected, then huffed a humorless laugh. “He’s a quick glitch, and he managed to gain cover before I could do more than scorch his plating.”

Jazz’s optics shot wide. “Prowl!”

“What? I tried, Jazz. He _is_ fast-”

“No, frag it!” Jazz gave a helpless laugh as he shook his helm. “Slag me. Ya know how many mechs had a brother on the other side in the early days?” He shook his helm again. “Ain’t blamin’ ya for not shootin’ yours. Just surprised. Bit cold that ya sound like ya _meant_ ta hit ‘im.”

“I did mean to, Jazz.” Prowl pulled his hands free. “Don’t you understand? He was a Decepticon _before_ Praxus. He let them die.”

Jazz stared at Prowl, jaw slack and optics wide. “Damn, babe.”

Prowl launched to his feet, doorwings held high as he began to pace. He started to say something a few times, but the words weren’t there, and he snapped his jaw shut.

Jazz stood after a few minutes and gripped Prowl’s upper arms. “Ok. So why’s he here then?”

“He was caught on the edge of the city-”

“No.” Jazz shook his helm and squeezed Prowl’s arms. “No, sweetspark. I mean why’s he _here_? In our home?”

Again, Prowl’s mouth opened but the words wouldn’t form. He pulled away and dropped to the couch, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. “He’s my brother,” he whimpered.

Prowl heard Jazz approach and didn’t flinch from the light touch to his helm and shoulder. “It’s ok, babe. Where’s he at now? Spare room?”

“Yes,” Prowl replied and lifted his head to face Jazz. “I pushed his smelly aft into the washroom, then when he came out he had most of a cube, but began to feel drunk. Glitch accused me of drugging- What? Jazz?”

Jazz launched to his feet and was clearly on his comms. “Not good, babe,” he said. “Ratch is comin’, was snarlin’ somethin’ about how we shoulda called right away, so brace for the storm.”

“I don’t…? I made an appointment for him tomorrow.” Prowl’s spark was pounding in its crystal. What had he done?

“Mech shouldn’t get _drunk_ offa regular energon, babe,” Jazz said. “Ain’t a good sign at all.”

Prowl jumped to his feet and hurried into Barricade’s room. His brother didn’t move as the light was turned on to the highest setting. He lay limp and loose-limbed even as Prowl grasped his shoulders, shouted his name, and gave him a hard shake.

“Easy, Prowler.” Jazz gripped Prowl’s shoulders and tugged him back. “Easy. Ratchet’s comin’. He’ll get your brother all fixed up.” He was silent for a moment, but Prowl could only stare at Barricade’s too-still form and wring his hands. “Slag me,” Jazz said with a chuckle. “Ya aren’t twins?”

“Same sparking. Different pods,” Prowl replied. Not twins in the Cybertronian sense, but fraternal twins by the Earth definition.

Jazz pulled away, and Prowl let him go. Mere seconds later, Hurricane Hatchet blew in, and Prowl stepped aside to give the medic room.

“Primus, frag it all!” Ratchet snapped, seeming like he was gearing up for a true rant, but then something even worse happened. The medic cursed and leaned closer, suddenly all business. “Where was he? What _exactly_ has he eaten tonight, and what in the nine rings of hell was he eating before?!”

“I do not know where he was living. He mentioned turborats,” Prowl said, feeling an uncommon helplessness. A cold fear crept through his lines and into his spark. Had he found his brother only to lose him now?

Ratchet’s helm swung around, optics wide and over-bright. “Turborats?! You know what, never fragging mind. Medical. Now.” He swept Barricade up like he weighed nothing and strode from the room with Prowl’s far too floppy brother, Jazz hot on his heels.

Prowl shook himself out of the trance that had engulfed him and hurried after the medic. He caught up in the hall, and reached to help balance Barricade with Jazz while Ratchet transformed.

“Load him up, then clear me a path,” Ratchet ordered.

Then he was gone, and Prowl didn’t even realize how hard he was shaking until Jazz led him back inside their quarters. “It’s ok, babe,” he said as he guided Prowl to the sofa and pushed him down. “Once ya catch your breath, we can go get under Ratchet’s feet and check up on your brother, yeah? He’s gonna be fine. Ratch has him now.”

Prowl nodded along, but Jazz’s words lost meaning under the heavy, ice-cold pounding of his spark.

~ | ~

Two days, and the only word from Ratchet was that Barricade would live. Whatever was going on in the medbay, it was keeping Ratchet, Perceptor, Hook, and First Aid all _very_ busy. Too busy to answer Prowl’s formal requests for information. Jazz knew that they were rotating turns at recharge, but none of them were getting the rest they should be, so it was serious, whatever was going on. Minor medical issues had been left in the hands of a medic named Ambulon. Jazz had checked him out, and he seemed to be on the level. Weird mech, but solid medic. Everyone else was in and out of the critical care suite.

Barricade was getting the best care on Cybertron, but that knowledge did not soothe Prowl at all. His field was a tangle of emotions, and his mind was definitely not even in the same hemisphere as his work. Optimus and Megatron both had dismissed him from duty before he could hurt himself or someone else. That, of course, only made Prowl feel more guilty. Especially when Jazz was also given the next few days off -barring any emergencies- to look after Prowl until Barricade was truly in the clear.

The shock of Prowl having a brother had rippled throughout the entire city, but no one was making fun. In fact, nearly everyone was giving Prowl a wide radius of space when he went out. Walks did not help. Jazz trailed along, but he was either trotting to keep up, or finding a decent place to park his aft while Prowl paced in slow circles. They had just returned from one such walk, and now Prowl was cruising the flat with a far-away expression and listless pace.

Jazz felt something ugly rise beneath his spark and shoved it down hard. He and Prowl were working on something that had been building between them for ages, but he had no right at all to feel jealous of the mech’s brother turning up. Pits, Jazz knew Prowl had been just as distracted and upset the last time he had been severely wounded. It was beyond fragged of him to resent the mech’s very existence, especially if he could make Prowl happy in any way. He also knew Prowl well enough to know that he needed to get his head screwed on real straight about Barricade. The mech wasn’t going anywhere. Prowl wouldn’t want him to. He was going to be living with them. Probably doing more than just ‘living’ as a roommate too. Jazz knew more than enough about the brothers now to know that if Barricade wasn’t _exactly_ competition for Prowl’s affections, he was certainly going to be getting a solid portion of them. The physical kind too. Jazz being an aft about it would only upset Prowl and drive a wedge between them.

Didn’t mean Jazz wouldn’t hand back any snark Barricade tossed his way, but that was the future. For now, Jazz needed to distract Prowl before the mech wore a path into the floor.

“Com’ere, Prowler.” Jazz caught Prowl’s hand, and tugged him down the hall and into their berthroom. He sent a signal to his stereo to turn it on and play some of the softer, more melodic music that Prowl enjoyed when he was relaxing, then dimmed the lights. Candlelight was in woeful short supply, but Jazz would manage. He guided an unresisting Prowl to the berth and gently pushed him down onto it. “Nothin’ for it, babe. Medics got it, and Ratchet wouldn’a said he’d be ok if he wasn’t sure of it.”

“I know,” Prowl said. “I don’t understand why I can’t focus. As you said, he’ll be fine. Whatever threat there had been has been seen to. I know that he’s still in serious condition, but-”

“Not knowin’ just how serious is twistin’ your processors in circles,” Jazz cut in. “I know, sweetspark.” He curled on the berth in front of Prowl and scooted in close so that their knees and forehelms touched. Jazz stroked one hand down Prowl’s side, then tipped his face forward for a kiss. “Can try’n distract ya a bit if ya want me to?”

“Yes, please,” Prowl whispered. He pushed closer, then rolled up and over top of Jazz.

Jazz willingly settled on his back and spread his legs, then drew one knee up to hook his foot over the back of Prowl’s thigh. “All yours, babe.” He had thought to maybe give Prowl a bit of a polish, then taste every bit of his shiny plating, but Prowl rarely took such obvious control when it came to interfacing. Jazz certainly didn’t mind being on the receiving end of his lover’s attentions, especially if it was what Prowl needed.

“My Jazz,” Prowl said on an exhalation that brushed warm air over Jazz’s audial, making him shiver. “I need to see your optics tonight.”

Jazz retracted the visor and smiled. He usually removed it anyway, since that was something Prowl liked. The visor meant ‘Jazz the Autobot’. ‘Jazz the saboteur’. ‘Jazz the spy’. Pale blue optics available to be gazed into with a variety of emotions had quickly come to mean ‘Jazz the mech who loved and trusted Prowl enough to be truly vulnerable’. ‘Jazz the mech who Prowl could be emotionally open with’. “Love ya, Prowler,” Jazz murmured.

Prowl keened a little and tucked his face into Jazz’s neck as he curled down over him. “My Jazz,” he gasped out, then mouthed along Jazz’s neck until he found the main energon line to suck.

Jazz pushed his hands down Prowl’s sides, then around to his back. He scratched his fingers in light scrapes over Prowl’s lumbar plating, paying particular attention to the seams where the thin but durable plates overlapped the one below. Prowl shivered over him and pressed his teeth against Jazz’s main line just enough to send a zing of pleasure down into his spark. Jazz moaned in approval and rolled his hips up to encourage more.

Prowl whispered his name again, then again, and Jazz pulled his hands up to the ever-sensitive hinges of the Praxian’s doorwings. He let his fingers dance over them, tapping out a faster rhythm than the soft music that filled their room. “Need ya, Prowler,” Jazz moaned and arched his back. He did, though the arousal wasn’t quite to desperate yet. It dragged another low sound out of Prowl though, so Jazz held tighter and pulled his other leg up.

Their panels met and slid against the other with a metallic hiss, and Prowl groaned and rocked his hips down harder. Jazz kissed his neck, then smiled. “Com’on, babe. Open. Take me. Lose yourself in it for a bit.” He retracted his own panel, valve giving a hungry clench at the thought of Prowl sliding inside. Hearing Prowl’s panel unlock and slide away made lust coil up in his belly even tighter. “Yeah. Want it all.”

Sharp eye teeth bit and pressed into Jazz’s main line just shy of breaking through, and another hard bolt of sensation shot across his sensornet. The hard line of Prowl’s spike rubbed over Jazz’s array with the next push of their hips, the wrong angle to slip inside, but it still caused that coil of lust to twist into a heavy knot.

“Teasin’ me,” Jazz gasped and caught Prowl’s waist to try and pull him into a better position.

“Maybe I wish to hear you beg?” Prowl purred. He nuzzled his way under Jazz’s chin, kissing and sucking and nibbling his way to the other side of his neck.

“Please.”

Prowl chuckled, and it was the best sound Jazz had heard in days. “You are far too easy.”

Jazz wound his hips up, able to feel how slick his array was as the spike slipped over it again. This time the end rode right over his valve rim and dragged a sharp gasp of need out. “Prowl!”

A low purr vibrated against Jazz’s audial as Prowl drew back. When he pushed forward, the blunt end of his spike found the rim of Jazz’s valve again, then pressed inward. Jazz shivered and fell limp against the berth, hands tight on Prowl’s hips to help pull him deeper.

“I love seeing you like this,” Prowl murmured, and Jazz peeked open his optics to look up at him. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Jazz felt his face heat, and his spark gave a harder pulse. It took nothing to reach out with it. “Prowler.”

Prowl gasped and returned the pulse with a harder thrust of his hips. “Primus, Jazz!”

Pits, yes! Jazz could work with this. It wasn’t the first time they had shared sparks, but it was the first time in a while, and _Primus_ , he’d forgotten how good it felt. He pulsed harder, crying out as their sparks met and merged. Bliss flooded through Jazz, and he arched under Prowl, then tried to drag him in even closer. The energy picked up its own rhythm, flowing back and forth in smooth, powerful waves. It was easy to let go with Prowl, and Jazz shut his optics, the better to focus on what he felt. He let his body rock into each driving thrust, and with Prowl’s soft moans in his audials, Jazz held nothing back.

Pleasure swelled, that knot in Jazz’s belly tightening into an aching need while a hot, _perfect_ pressure build within his spark. “Prowl,” he gasped in warning.

Prowl thrust harder, and their rhythm faltered. Then the world blazed white, and Jazz screamed his release, arching off the berth hard enough to lift Prowl with him. Tingling, blissful ecstasy swept through him, making his fingertips buzz and his valve clench with each surge. Molten heat flooded his valve, Prowl’s softer cries echoing Jazz’s. 

The universe was still dipping in a slow and lazy twist when Jazz managed to drag his optics open. Prowl was a lax, warm weight over him, and he wound his arms around his lover’s waist and purred. “Love ya, Prowler.”

“My Jazz,” Prowl whispered back.

It was a long few minutes before Prowl moved, but he didn’t go far. They settled knee to knee and forehelm to forehelm again, and Jazz tipped his face in for a slow, lingering kiss. “Get some rest, babe.”

“You as well,” Prowl said, optics dim and sleepy.

Jazz smiled and pinged the lights to shut off but left the music playing. “I will,” he murmured, but Prowl had already slipped into recharge, exhaustion and worry combining with a damn powerful overload to haul him off to dreamland. Jazz grinned, kissed the tip of a straight, patrician nose, then snuggled in to get some recharge himself.

~ | ~

Barricade slowly swam his way back to consciousness. Something was very wrong. Had he fallen? Had something attacked him? There was a dullness to his senses that made his spark pulse harder and brought him the rest of the way to full wakefulness, though he remained still and kept his optics shut. That had saved his aft a handful of times in the past.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” a voice said just to Barricade’s right, startling him into opening his optics. The mech above him was as instantly recognizable as Prowl. “If you ever eat another turborat, I will hunt you down and remove all the hard work my team and I have put into you this past week. Got it?” Ratchet demanded.

Barricade nodded. “No need to,” he said and was surprised by how smooth his vocalizer was.

It must have shown on his face, because Ratchet smirked down at him. “Yeah, we cleaned your vocalizer of the rust.” He lifted the datapad in his hand and began reading off it. “Relays, wires, tubes, lines, cables, and even a few sensor node clusters have all been replaced. We’ve rebuilt your fuel pump and given you a new tank since the last one was almost rotted through. All of the rust infections are gone, your joints have been repacked, and your systems can now handle regular energon. In fact, you could probably drink high grade, but for the love of Joe, please don’t.”

Narrowed aqua optics stared him down until Barricade nodded. “Didn’t mean ta get drunk before. No burnin’ desire ta repeat it.”

Ratchet snorted. “Right. Well, you’re on medical leave for the next week. I’ll check you over again to see if you’re ready to join the fully alive. I meant that comment about turborats. You consume _only_ real, quality energon, or I will have your aft in a sling.”

Barricade nodded, then carefully pushed himself to sit up. He wasn’t intimidated in the least, but there really would be no reason to suck the guts out of prey when he could have the stuff Prowl had given him. Primus in the Pit, though. There wasn’t a single spot on him that didn’t have that fresh-from-surgery sore achiness.

“Prowl’s on his way,” Ratchet said, and his tone set off alarm bells in Barricade’s head. “No one knew he had a brother. Not even me. Frag. Not even Prime.”

Barricade met the medic’s stare with one of his own as he carefully lowered his feet to the floor. “Can’t imagine the Autobot’s Second in Command wantin’ it to get out that he had a ‘Con for a brother.”

“ _Jazz_ didn’t know.”

Barricade shrugged. Spies could find out all kinds of things, but if they didn’t know to even look for the information, then why would it be discovered. “Prowl,” Barricade said as explanation enough. There was no denying that Prowl was damn clever. If he’d hidden the fact that he had a brother, then it was no surprise no one had known.

“We all care a great deal for him.”

Barricade snorted. “Save it, medic,” he growled. “Not gonna go hurtin’ him or anyone else.” He cast Ratchet a smirk as the door to the medbay hissed open. “Like energon more than rats anyways.”

“Something I am pleased to hear,” Prowl said as he crossed to Barricade. “I refuse to have them in my home.”

“You’re no fun,” Barricade said, surprised when Prowl reached out and touched his arm. It was only a light brush of fingertips, but it shocked a bolt of… something through him.

Ratchet shook his helm and poked a finger at Barricade, serving as a good distraction for Prowl, who suddenly looked thunderstruck. “Rest. Let all that work I did settle in before you even think about doing anything strenuous.” He shifted those hard, serious optics to Prowl. “Comm me the first _hint_ that something’s wrong. I don’t really expect any complications, or I wouldn’t be kicking him out, but keep an optic on him.” The medic eyed Barricade. “I have the feeling you’re the macho type.”

Barricade tipped his helm at the unfamiliar word. “If something’s wrong, I’ll speak up. Not interested in dyin’ yet.”

Ratchet snorted. “Could’ve fucking fooled me. Out. I have slag to do.”

Barricade slid off the berth to stand as the medic turned away, and Prowl caught his arm as he wobbled. “M’fine,” he grumbled softly. His feet buzzed a little, but really, he hadn’t felt this good in ages.

“Come,” Prowl said and stepped back. “Staying in Ratchet’s domain when he’s dismissed you is dangerous.”

“So I’ve heard.” Barricade allowed Prowl to help him to the door, but then pulled his arm free. “I’m fine,” he repeated and pushed through the door.

“There is no need to be defensive,” Prowl huffed as he followed. “I am only trying to assist you. It’s not a terribly long way to my quarters, but you’ve been in surgery for six full days.”

Primus! Barricade glared at Prowl. “I’m. Fine.” He gestured forward for Prowl to lead on, because frag it, he didn’t know which way to go, but damned if he wanted his slagging brother announcing for one and all how weak he was. “Not like I didn’t hike or hunt in worse condition. Could probably slag anything that came at me now.” Really, he’d gotten drunk from midgrade. He had been in _bad_ shape. That didn’t mean he wanted to be treated like an invalid, especially in public.

Prowl stared for a moment, and Barricade glared right back, then finally they were moving. Barricade kept his helm moving, taking everything in. He felt more alert than he had in ages. When they stepped outside to cross a courtyard to a tall building, he nearly tripped to realize that the light was a sun overhead. Everything was cast in a bright glow, brighter than inside. The close buildings gleamed, and Barricade had to stop himself from scurrying for a shadow. Deeply ingrained instincts screamed that this was all wrong. He was far too exposed.

“Barricade?” Prowl called, his voice soft in a way that grated worse than the light, but not so much as Barricade’s irritation at his own reaction.

Barricade didn’t bother to answer, he flicked his doorwings back and strode toward Prowl with a gesture to keep going. Prowl was still eyeing him with that odd, worried expression on his face, and part of Barricade wanted to wipe it off with his fists. He resisted. This was his brother after all, and he knew why he felt tetchy. The last damn thing he wanted was to discuss it in public.

Getting to Prowl’s flat really didn’t take all that long, but everything made Barricade twitch, and he was more grateful than he would admit to have the door shut and locked behind him.

“Why don’t you lie down,” Prowl said. “I’ll find you a few datapads to read so you’re not too bored.”

“What?” Barricade snorted and shook his helm. “Frag off, I’m not just gonna lay around.”

“Ratchet ordered rest. I think-”

“Slag what you think. Your little pal in the detention center said no freeloaders. I’m not slagging tired, and I’m not slagging weak!”

Prowl stared as though he didn’t understand the words for a moment, then shook his helm. “No. Ratchet said you are to rest, so you will rest. This is not about weakness, nor is it about contributing right now. You were on death’s door, Barricade. You became drunk off a single cube of midgrade. Now lie down. At the very least, sit.” He jabbed a finger at the sofa. “I do not understand why you are in such a snit with me. It is not my fault you were such a mess.”

“Ain’t your fault,” Barricade conceded in a growl. “ _Is_ your fault that you keep fragging pointing at how weak and vulnerable I am. Just shut the frag up! You want to gloat about how wrong my choice was, you do it in frelling private! Don’t stand around acting like I’m about to collapse in front of anyone looking!”

Prowl gaped for a moment. “You’re being ridiculous. Take a nap. I think you need one.”

Barricade glared, fists clenched tight against the desire to pop his brother right in the mouth. “Rust out!”

“You first,” Prowl snapped. “No one is going to attack you. No one will hurt you here.”

“You forgettin’ what I am?” Barricade demanded and took a step closer to his brother. “I’m a ‘Con deserter. There’re plenty of mechs out there that might try ta take me out for that alone.”

“Assault is not tolerated here.” Prowl drew himself up, doorwings held high and rigid.

“Yeah, that’ll stop ‘em. Glad to see you’re still such a trusting glitch. Bet that hasn’t caused problems over the course of the war.” It was a low shot, Barricade knew it the second the words were out of his mouth.

Prowl bristled like a photovoltaic with a pitched tail and ground out, “And it is ever so nice to see that you are still a glitched-out, foul-tempered, ungrateful, paranoid _aft_! Living with you again is going to be a joy.” Then he abruptly spun on his heel and stormed toward a side counter in the opposite direction of the berthrooms. A cupboard was yanked open, and a decanter of what was _definitely_ high grade taken out.

Wow. Had he just literally driven his brother to drink? Barricade’s anger melted away into carefully hidden amusement. “Always running away from the fight,” he said conversationally as Prowl poured the high grade into a glass, then slammed the cupboard shut. “And get fragged anyways,” Barricade added with a little heat to his tone and turned to head out the door. It would suck, but he could find another place to stay. “You don’t want me here? No problem. Thank the medic for me, be seein’ ya never again.”

“Don’t you dare leave me again!” Prowl shouted. The glass banged onto the countertop, and he stormed forward to grab Barricade’s arm and jerk him around. “I’m not _running_ from anything! You’re the one jumping at shadows and ready to slink off.” Barricade bit back a wince as Prowl threw his arm aside. “How fragging dare you! You cling to me, beg me to stay with you, tell me you _love_ me, then threaten to leave?!”

Barricade blinked. “You did stay, didn’t you?” The memory was so fuzzy, he could barely recall, but he had the sense of a warm body close to his. Had he really said _that_ though?

Prowl stepped back and turned away with an inarticulate sound of fury, then stomped back over to his high grade.

“For the record. I _walked_ away from the Decepticons when I learned about what Shockwave was doing and realized that he knew that I knew. There was nothing any of us could do. There was nothing I could do but escape before I fell into one of his traps.” Barricade paced over to his brother and tipped his helm to the side. “Why did you stay the other night?”

Prowl drained half the glass, then pinned Barricade with that pale glare again. “Because you asked me to. Because you were drunk and clinging and _alive_. Do you have any idea what losing you to the Decepticons did to me? What thinking you were dead did to me?” Barricade remained silent and still. This wasn’t new information. It had killed him to think Prowl was dead too. “You tell me you love me, but the first frelling thing you do after _six_ days in critical condition is pick a fight with me!” Prowl threw his free hand into the air. “I didn’t know what they were doing to you. I spend six fragging days worrying myself sick over you because I still _love_ you, and what do I get?” He swept that same hand in an angry gesture that encompassed all of Barricade.

Barricade waited, but it seemed that was the entirety of his brother’s rant. Prowl harrumphed, looked away, and sipped at his high grade, looking decidedly uncomfortable now. Barricade grinned. “So. I said it drunk.” Prowl looked back at him with a confused frown. “You just said it, but while screaming in anger.”

“I wasn’t screaming.”

Barricade smirked and took the glass from Prowl while he snaked his other arm around his brother’s middle to draw him in close. “Let’s try it over, shall we?” He set the glass down and brought his hand to Prowl’s face. “I’ll even go first,” he added in a purr and moved his face in close. “I love you. I missed you. Your death destroyed me.” He paused, letting all humor drop from his expression to be replaced by aching sincerity. “ _Both_ times.” First Praxus, then again when the _Ark_ was lost, but Barricade held himself just shy of the kiss his lips tingled to claim. There were bound to be more arguments in the future, and he wouldn’t give Prowl the chance to claim that Barricade had pushed and he hadn’t really wanted this.

For a moment, Prowl remained stiff and silent, then he huffed and dropped his gaze to the side. “I love you. I missed you too.” He met Barricade’s gaze, then quick as a Pitviper, punched Barricade in the side. “But I will slag you if you pick anymore stupid fights with me.”

Barricade grunted at the light impact, then snickered. Not that it lasted long. Prowl gripped his helm and pulled him into a hard kiss that still tasted a bit of anger. Barricade growled into the kiss and pulled Prowl in tight against him. Arousal slammed into him. It struck hard, low in his belly and drove him forward into Prowl. His pelvic plating slid against his brother’s, the only lover who’d ever mattered. Though the last thing he wanted to think about were any others. Barricade tipped his helm the other way, deepened the kiss, and took control of it with a possessive thrust of his tongue. It’d been _far_ too long. Tens of thousands of vorns, and it still felt familiar. Better than that. It felt _right_ to have Prowl whimper into their kiss and cling to his shoulders.

Casting aside all inhibition, Barricade moaned and let his panel retract. He never had held back with Prowl, and he wasn’t going to start now. One thigh pushed between Prowl’s as Barricade’s spike eagerly slid to full extension. “Prowl,” he gasped as his spike rubbed again dark plating with each push of his hips. “Need you. Tired of always fighting you. Shouldn’t be like this.” His spark throbbed thickly, pulsing need and desire through him. He let it flare through his field and whispered against Prowl’s neck, “Love you.”

Prowl’s panel clicked as it opened, and he lifted a knee to hook over Barricade’s hip. “Yes. Love you. Need you. Please…”

Barricade drew back only enough to get his spike against Prowl’s array, and millions of years fell away in an instant. They’d done this, _this_ , so many times that there was no position Barricade couldn’t unerringly thrust into Prowl’s valve from. He sank deep, vents stalling, spark slamming in its crystal in a desperate, instinctive need to reach Prowl. They’d never bonded, but they’d gotten damn close, and Barricade _wanted_ that bond. Still. Like the last four million years and a devastating war had never happened. Pleasure blazed through him, and he had to force himself still, buried deep and unmoving because if he didn’t take a moment, he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t overload instantly. “Prowl,” he gasped, voice strangled as he fought for control. Prowl’s keening and clawing at him wasn’t helping that waning control either.

“Cade,” Prowl gasped as he shivered, valve clenching and rippling in what felt damn near like an overload already.

Then Prowl’s spark reached out too, and Barricade choked on a sharp cry. His body lurched into motion as ecstasy shot through him. He thrust hard, hips twitching back only enough so that he could bury himself deep again. The overload was violent and almost painful, transfluid pulled from him and his spark energy twining with Prowl’s. He gasped with each surge, leaning hard into Prowl, and only held up by the counter under his brother’s aft and the desperate need to stay as close as possible.

“No,” Prowl keened, his fingers clawing at Barricade’s shoulders and back. “Please!”

Barricade purred as his overload ebbed, none of the lust gone. He slowed his pace, lengthening each stroke and smoothing it out. He lifted his helm to smile at Prowl. “Not done with you,” he said, then leaned in to claim another kiss before nibbling his way to Prowl’s neck. “No holding back. Want you screaming.” He thrust harder, sharply plunging into the slick, rippling valve. “Not done until neither one of us can move.” Which he probably shouldn’t be doing, but slag it, he felt better than he had in a long damn time, and ‘facing Prowl certainly masked any ache he did feel.

The medic didn’t need to know.

Prowl moaned and rocked against him, spark pulsing harder with sharp, demanding flares of energy. “Promises,” he said on a hitched gasp.

Barricade chuckled, letting the sound vibrate over Prowl’s main energon line. “Come on. Can feel you fluttering. Close.” He ground in hard, then drew back for a series of hard thrusts before grinding deep again. “Can barely remember what you sound like. Remind me.” That was a lie. A processor wipe wouldn’t take away his memories of Prowl. They were engraved on his spark, and he very suddenly couldn’t believe he’d survived so long without his mate beside him. “Prowl,” he said again, voice low and rough. He bit at Prowl’s neck, thrusting harder, wanting to feel Prowl come apart in his arms. “Missed you so fragging much,” he gasped, fighting against the charge already building within him again.

"Yes!" Prowl cried, then reached one hand back to brace himself against the counter. "Cade," he gasped, then cried out again as Barricade bit his main line. He bucked hard, back arching, then screamed his shortened version of Barricade’s name.

Barricade growled, one fang piercing Prowl’s line. He pressed in tight, thrust even harder as a few sweet drops of blood trickled onto his tongue. _Prowl’s_ blood. _Prowl’s_ screams. _Prowl_ crying his name like a prayer.

Release drove Barricade to his knees, but he pulled Prowl with him, hips still bucking as fire tore through his lines and stars burst over his sensornet. “Prowl!” Staying upright, even while kneeling and pressing Prowl back into the cupboard was difficult. The entire planet tilted from the force of their pleasure. “Prowl,” he repeated in a whisper, then licked at the small wound he’d made.

“Primus, Cade,” Prowl gasped, arms draped limply over Barricade’s shoulders. How had they gotten here? He’d meant to bring Barricade home, get him comfortable, then explain about-

“Well. This is interestin’,” Jazz said. “Looks like I missed the welcome home party.”

Prowl lifted his helm, spark pounding, face on fire, and lines pumping ice. “Jazz! I-” Guilt was a leaden weight on his spark, and there really was no excuse for this.

“Don’t remember invitin’ you,” Barricade growled at Jazz.

Prowl pushed at his brother’s shoulders. “No, Primus, please, don’t start in on each other.” Standing was an exercise in humiliation. Prowl’s legs felt like they were made of gelatin, and Barricade’s spike stood proud and liberally coated in their mingled fluids. “Cade, I meant to tell you about Jazz. Jazz, I didn’t… We didn’t plan to interface.”

“No. Reckon it just happened,” Jazz said, and his tone ripped at Prowl’s spark.

“This is not how I wanted this to go,” Prowl said as he clung with aching fingers to the counter behind him. He glanced between them, his brother and his lover, but felt his spark bottom out again at Barricade’s sudden look of understanding. “I can’t… I love you both,” he said in a rush. “I didn’t mean to interface with Barricade before all of us talking. Pits, I hadn’t even really thought about doing it at all.”

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of their vents whirring away, then Jazz spoke. To Prowl, it was obvious how carefully the words were chosen. “I expected it. Just not ta walk in on it before we could talk.”

Barricade reached up to the counter and levered himself from the floor. “I started it,” he said, panel a distant click as it closed. “We were arguing, and this isn’t exactly an uncommon end to one of our fights.”

“Ain’t gonna claim not ta be a bit jealous,” Jazz said. “Prowler’s been all mine for a while now. Six days ain’t quite enough for me ta adjust my thinkin’.”

Prowl stood with his doorwings low, looking back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match. He didn’t dare say a word lest the terror of losing them both spill out with the burn behind his optics. _Never_ had he wanted to hurt Jazz, but he wasn’t sure he could choose between them.

Barricade’s chin dipped in a nod. “Suppose it’s a bit much. Medic said no one knew he had a brother. Jazz.” He nodded again, to himself as though something suddenly made more sense. “He mentioned you by name.”

“Me an’ Prowl ain’t a secret now the war’s over,” Jazz said.

“Gossip mill’s probably going wild.”

“Ya don’t know the half of it.”

“He’s a micron from shattering,” Barricade said, and it took Prowl a moment to realize his brother meant him.

“Ain’t the best at facin’ his emotions,” Jazz replied with something that could almost be called a grin.

Barricade snorted. “Ya don’t know the half of it.”

“So. We’ll figure this out, yeah?” Jazz asked. “Cuz I sure as slag ain’t givin’ him up. So if ya plan on hangin’ about, then ya’re gonna hafta share.”

Prowl blinked. What? “What?” he asked, voice rasping.

“Lost him twice,” Barricade said. “Not getting rid of me now. I’ve done that whole go the other way thing. Right or wrong, I’m stayin’. I can share. Probably have more talkin’ to do once he isn’t about to crash anyways.”

Jazz snickered, and Barricade grinned, and suddenly all the tension fled the room. And Prowl’s knees. Barricade caught him before he could hit the floor, and together with an also laughing Jazz, they dragged him into the washracks.

“You are both staying?” Prowl asked, daring to hope.

“Yeah,” Barricade replied.

“’Course we are, babe. Love ya too, remember?” Jazz leaned up to kiss Prowl’s cheek as Barricade turned on the water. “Let’s all just chill the rest of the night though, ok? We’ll do the talkin’ tomorrow. Cade and I gotta get ta know each other a bit too.”

“No fighting,” Prowl ordered, and they both had the audacity to laugh at him.

~ | ~

Jazz huffed as he walked in the front door. “So much for waitin’ for me ta get home.”

Barricade grinned unrepentantly over Prowl’s shoulder at him. With Prowl’s legs splayed open, Jazz had an enticing view of Barricade’s spike sliding in and out of Prowl’s valve. Lubricant gleamed in the overhead lights. “You say that like this isn’t the perfect sight to come home to.”

“Shut up,” Prowl moaned. “Jazz. Here. Now.” A white hand gripped and stroked up his own spike to illustrate just where ‘here’ was.

Jazz chuckled and sauntered across the lounge to where the brothers waited for him on the sofa. They had- No, _Barricade_ had likely turned it to face the door better. Alright, this was definitely planned. Not that Jazz was really complaining. The last few months had been quite a bit more fun than he’d initially expected. Barricade was creative and incredibly good at getting Prowl wound up with nothing more than a few verbal shots. Color Jazz impressed there. They were still trying to figure things out, but Barricade was fairly good about that too. He held nothing back, the polar opposite of his brother who held just about everything back. Jazz was somewhere in the middle, calculated and cautious about what he showed to who and how he showed it. He thought he might actually be something of a balancing force between the two despite the fact that he and Barricade weren’t lovers themselves. They had no real intention to go there, actually.

“Stop staring,” Prowl growled and reached out to grasp Jazz’s wrists and pull him in.

“Like watchin’ ya come apart though, babe.” Jazz snickered and freed a wrist to reach over their shoulders to brace himself on the back of the sofa. This was an interesting configuration, and Jazz faced them both as he popped his panel and straddled Prowl’s lap.

“He’s already do that fluttering thing,” Barricade said with a slag-eating grin. Jazz bounced a bit as the other mech gave a harder thrust, then snickered as Prowl yelped and let his helm fall back.

“Then I’ll wait until after he’s had the first one there,” Jazz said, though that didn’t stop him from leaning in to bite at Prowl’s exposed throat. “Been a long day, and I don’t wanna have ta rush ta catch up.”

“No need,” Barricade said as he picked up his pace just enough to make Prowl’s vents hitch. “I’m nowhere as close as he is.”

Close was an understatement, as Prowl’s fingers bit into Jazz’s wrist and upper arm, and he arched into his overload. Barricade grunted and stopped moving, but Jazz didn’t call him on his previous boasting. They’d all have a good time, and he was more than ready to join in.

“Damn, babe,” Jazz purred as he licked Prowl’s throat and lifted enough to impale himself on his spike. “Fraggin’ sexy.”

“You’re both impossible,” Prowl muttered as he fell lax back against Barricade.

“And you love us,” Barricade purred, beating Jazz to the punch.

“Yes,” Prowl replied, optics meeting Jazz’s over a smile. “Now both of you move, or I’ll see to my needs myself.”

“Can’t threaten me with a good time, Prowler.” Jazz snickered and stole a kiss, then lifted himself up only to drop back down as Barricade thrust up. Between them Prowl’s optics fell shut and he moaned a low note of pleasure.

By the time Jazz and Barricade declared themselves satisfied, Prowl was wavering on the edge of an exhausted recharge, but a happy smile graced his features, and his hands held tightly onto both of them.


End file.
